Last Friday Night
by Sword-of-Shadows
Summary: Oneshot - Based on Last Friday Night by Katy Perry - The Bad Touch Trio knows how to throw a party! Too bad they can't remember it...


**A/N:**

So... this was kind of a spurr of the moment idea that I got from watching this YouTube video:

http:/ www. / watch? v=ZBSD-v8zfEw (just remove the spaces ;D)

Sorry if it sucks! D:

**Disclaimer: ** "Last Friday Night" belongs to Katy Perry and Hetalia belongs to Himaruya-sama. Not me.

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><p>Francis was rudely awakened by the joined effort of the sun coming through the open silk curtains and someone kicking him in the ribs. The sun through the window wasn't too surprising, he always seemed to forget to close them, but the kick was a little unnerving. He didn't <em>remember<em> bringing anyone home last night… actually, 'last night' was kind of missing from his memory…

Deciding that it would probably be in his best interest to see who was his bed partner was, he turned over onto his stomach and stared at a blob of silvery-white hair resting atop some of the pillows. It took him a moment to register who it was, and when he did, he promptly shoved the albino off of the bed.

Gilbert landed on the glitter-covered hardwood floor with a thud, instantly awake and clutching a pounding head. "Gottverdammt!" he groaned. How much did he drink last night? In fact… what happened last night?

"Good morning, sunshine," Francis stared down at him, earning a grunt. The hung-over albino was butt-naked, giving him a good view from the bed. Actually, now that Francis thought about it, it didn't feel like he was wearing anything either. There was something heavy around his waist, though…

With a suspicious frown, he lifted up the covers to reveal that, yes, he was naked, and that a sleeping, clingy, and-just-as-naked-as-him-and-Gilbert Antonio was wrapped stubbornly around his torso. With a small sigh, Francis ran an affectionate hand through the Spaniard's dark curls only to immediately flinch and pull away as the sticky curls tried to glue his hand to them. Why was Antonio's hair so sticky? A further inspection of said stickiness would reveal it to be a mix of what had to be cum and tequila… the cum was probably easily explainable, but why was Antonio covered in alcohol?

Francis gently shook Antonio awake and turned to Gilbert, who had curled up in a fetal position to protect his aching head. "What happened last night?" he asked as Antonio stuck his head out from under the covers. The Spaniard tried to brush his hair out of his face, realized that it was sticky and promptly didn't bother to disentangle his hand, choosing instead to flop half off the bed and stared sleepily at Gilbert.

Gilbert grunted and slowly uncurled himself, looking like he was about to puke. "Dunno… can't 'member… damn, I bet it was awesome though!" he tried to smirk, but the urge to vomit was too strong. Luckily for all three of them, Francis kept a garbage can near his bed.

"That… is disgusting," Antonio laughed, earning a glare. An odd smell hit Antonio's nose and he finally decided to untangle his hand. Bringing his finger up to his nose, he recoiled at the smell of tequila. "…Why do I smell like a mini-bar?" he asked nobody in particular.

"I was hoping you knew, mon ami," Francis shrugged and got up from the bed to stare out the window at his backyard. Whatever happened _must_ have been amazing, if the state of his yard had anything to say about it. Glitter and streamers littered every available surface; all possible types of trash floated in his pool… the DJ – was that Alfred from down the street? – was passed out on the deck.

"Damn," the Frenchman breathed and turned back to his room, rubbing his neck. His hand stopped moving as his finger ran over a slightly painful raised bump on his collar bone. Confused, he hurried into his bathroom (where Antonio was in the shower, trying to get tequila out of his hair) and stared at the spot in the mirror. Much to his horror, he had found a hickie… or was it a bruise? It was kind of hard to tell…

Gilbert, who had stolen some painkillers for his head and was now wearing a pair of boxers, was typing furiously at Francis' laptop. He cursed as a long page of pictures popped up on the screen. "Guys," he laughed, "You are _not _gonna believe this!"

"What's that?" Francis asked, walking up behind him.

"Pictures of last night," Gilbert explained, scrolling through the results. "We are _so _royally fucked!"

The first picture that Gilbert pulled up was a shot of the trio dancing on top of some of the tables at their favorite bar. "Any idea what we were dancing to?" Gilbert questioned. Francis just shook his head, scrolling down to the next picture.

Gilbert and Francis (plus a crowd of people that they didn't remember ever meeting) were crowded around the bar, obviously in the middle of a drinking contest, if the empty shot glasses covering the counter and the obviously pissed bartender had anything to say about it. (The picture right below it was of them getting thrown out of the bar, but they chose to ignore it in favor of the much funnier drinking contest.)

"That explains why Toni's got tequila problems," Gilbert laughed, pointing to the corner of the shot, which revealed some very slutty (but so damn hot!) girl pouring multiple drinks over the poor Spaniard's head.

"I don't know who I feel sorrier for," Francis laughed. "Tonio, who obviously didn't get that girl in bed with him, or that girl for having to deal with his 'flirting'!"

"Hopefully me!" Antonio whined as he limped over to his friends, drying his hair with a small towel.

"What's with the limp?" Gilbert questioned, staring at Antonio's boxers.

Antonio shrugged and rubbed his lower back. "I don't know! My ass just hurts like hell."

Francis rubbed his head, trying to piece everything together in his head. With virtually no success, he gave up and decided that he couldn't think on an empty stomach. The other two followed him (slowly) down to the kitchen/dining room, where they found Francis' expensive crystal chandelier covering the dining room table and carpet. The three stared in open mouthed shock for a few seconds (Francis in horror that his chandelier was broken, Gilbert amazed that someone got the ugly thing down and destroyed it and Antonio in amusement at the sparkly effect that the lights created on the shattered crystals) before continuing to the kitchen without comment.

As Francis threw a breakfast together, Gilbert let his face fall onto the kitchen counter, still suffering from a headache, and listened to the multiple voicemails left on his cell phone. "Goddamnit," he mumbled into the counter. "Any idea where the tow cars to?"

"None at all, why?" Francis asked, partially distracted by the sight of his favorite shirt hanging in tatters from where the chandelier used to be.

"'Cause I think the town towed mine…" Gilbert went back to listening to the message. "…Yep, they towed it. Vati's gonna kill me…"

There was a small "Eep!" from the next room and Antonio stumbled in, clutching the television remote and gesturing wildly at the TV. "Guys, guys, guys I'm _so _screwed!" he panicked. "Can I just lay low here for a few months 'cause it's not safe for me to leave the house-"

"Mon ami, what are you going on about?" Francis asked. Could today get any more insane?

Unable to speak in comprehendible sentences, Antonio dragged Francis to the TV, where the news was showing a picture (from last night, Francis was willing to bet) of Antonio going totally mental in front of the bar, wielding an ancient looking halberd. "If you see this man, do not approach him," the newscaster was saying, "Alert the authorities and get away. He is a very dangerous, unpredictable…"

The man's warnings were drowned out by a hysterical Antonio clutching desperately at Francis' arm, and shrieking "I'm not dangerous! What the hell happened last night? And where the fuck did I get an axe from, anyway!"

"Antonio, calm down!" Francis tried to shush him and made him sit at the counter, next to (a hopefully only sleeping) Gilbert. "I'm sure this is nothing to worry about-"

"Nothing to worry about! I'M A WANTED MAN!"

"Good fer yew, now shaddap," Gilbert grunted, his head pounding from Antonio's hysterics.

"Please stop panicking! That won't help!" Francis wrapped Antonio in a comforting hug, only taking advantage of the tan man's exposed chest as an afterthought. "Let's just try and remember what happened last night, okay?"

Antonio nodded and whimpered worriedly; ignoring (or not noticing) Francis' wandering hands as he grabbed the laptop and continued to scroll through pictures.

"…Is that us?" Antonio mumbled, squinting at a blurry picture of three (probably male) figures running through the town park.

"Are we naked?" Francis tilted his head, trying to see the picture better.

"That would explain why I can't find my boxers," Gilbert grunted.

"…But you're wearing boxers right now," France frowned at him.

"What, these? They're yours," the albino smirked.

"Why the hell are you wearing my boxers!"

"I already told you, I couldn't find mine. So I took yours, because unlike you, I don't walk around a kitchen naked."

Francis sniffed. "It's my house; I can wear whatever or not wear whatever I want to."

"Gil, I don't think your clothes are in the park," Antonio interrupted the beginning of their argument, drawing their attention back to the laptop screen.

"Whose pool is that?" Antonio asked, motioning toward the picture he found. The lighting was horrible (the result of strobe lights at night) but the photo revealed a group of people including the trio in an unknown in-ground pool.

"Skinny dipping?" Francis frowned. How could he not remember that?

"It looks like it," Antonio confirmed.

"Are those my boxers?" Gilbert stared at the corner of the picture where a pair of Prussian flag boxers hung from a house gutter.

"Most likely," Antonio laughed. "Who else would wear Prussian flag boxers?"

"Well yours are the Spanish flag!" Gilbert blushed.

"That's not the Prussian flag, now, it it~?"

Francis ignored them and continued to scroll through the pictures, wondering who uploaded them. The pictures blurred, none of them really catching his eye and screaming 'important'.

However, he had to do a double take on one. Unlike most of the pictures surrounding it, this picture was perfectly clear, the lighting was perfect. For a moment, Francis just stared at it, open mouthed, before snapping his finger in between his friends' faces, grabbing their attention.

It took him a minute, but Gilbert's jaw fell as he stared at the photo, Antonio copying his expression so that all three of them now stared at the picture with slack jaws, heads tilted to the left. "Is that… us?" Gilbert asked, even though it was obvious that they were the three naked men in the picture.

"That would explain why my ass hurts…" Antonio mused.

After a moment of silence, Gilbert laughed. "Wow, Tonio, I never pictured you as a bottom!"

"Well that's not exactly 'five meters' is it, Gil?"  
>"A ménage a trios," Francis sighed sadly. "I was in a ménage a trios and I can't remember it…"<p>

"Is this picture even legal?" Antonio asked.

Francis shrugged, leaning over Antonio and printing the screen. "Probably not."

"We are so _screwed_!" Gilbert cackled. "Just _wait_ 'till someone else sees this!"

"Oh well~!" Antonio laughed.

The three continued through the pictures, laughing at most and cringing at a select few. ("Damn, Frannie, I didn't know it was possible to bend like that!" "…It's not…")

As they neared the end of the page, they fell into silence. "So…" Francis finally spoke up. "You two have plans for next Friday?"

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><p>Last Friday night<br>Yeah I think we broke the law  
>Always say we're gonna stop<br>Oh-whoa-oh  
>This Friday night<br>Do it all again

T.G.I.F

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><p><strong>AN:**

Was it good, bad? Do ya love it, hate it?

Drop a review! I'd love to have your feedback~

Ciao~!


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